


Throwing Knives

by SerenePhenix



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU where the team is back together, Friendship, Gen, Let Coran Be A Dad!2k17, space mall shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 05:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11350413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenePhenix/pseuds/SerenePhenix
Summary: Keith does not always get other people.That's okay though, because luckily there are other people who seem to get him.----OR: The Red Paladin and Royal Advisor get to know each other a little better.





	Throwing Knives

**Author's Note:**

> I am always afraid of writing Keith. This has to stop. I want to love my space children equally!
> 
> …and the space uncle of course…
> 
> Me basically trying to see whether I can write our Red Paladin in a realistic way or not.  
> Maybe you guys could tell me at the end?

Keith knew people were staring. He knew and could see the shopkeeper also staring at him from just beyond the glass he was very nearly pressed against. Usually, it would set him on edge, make him uncomfortable until he would either throw the offenders a warning glance or retreat to make as quiet an exit as possible. But right now, it mattered little that others were giving him looks: he was far too fixated on the weapon on display in shop’s window, lying on a cushion Keith would have thought more befitting of some gaudy necklace.

The blade was a real piece of art.

It was simple, small and yet elegant; nothing like his curved flashy dagger although it held a shine to it he could not just attribute to the tinted glass. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. He racked his brain, trying to remember what he had read so long ago in one of those books when he was a kid, all the information he had practically absorbed as he sat in front of a computer in the Garrison library clicking and browsing through various articles.

Just what kind of blade was this exactly? It was not long enough to be a dagger. A poniard maybe? He wasn’t sure, the mental image not really aligning with what he was seeing in front of him.  
And even if so, what kind of metal was it made of? Something he knew from Earth? It was unlikely. It surely had to be some kind of material that was more common in this corner of the universe. Or maybe it _was_ a metal just like those on Earth and the techniques used by these aliens to forge weapons were so advanced and refined that it enhanced any material’s properties until it was no longer comparable with its raw state?

Keith was dying to know, desperate to compare how this blade would feel in his palm, what difference it would make to wield it and he was, just like all of the other Paladins, completely and utterly broke.

Buying a weapon as costly at this (the amount of zeroes on that shiny price tag was intimidating) was out of the question. All he could allow himself was to gaze longingly at this masterpiece until he inevitably would have to turn around to trudge back to their meeting point. The saddest part had to be that, even if he did at some point manage to scrap together the GAC necessary for the purchase, the blade would probably already have found another owner with a heavy wallet.

He was close enough to the window that his breath was fogging on the glass.

Keith rarely ever wanted or needed anything much. Most of the things he wanted couldn’t be bought anyway. But just like back when he had been to town with Shiro and seen that awesome shirt, he now stood here and looked at something else he did not have the money for. He never let it bother him before, but right here, right now, he was actually frustrated that he could not have just this. one. little. **thing**.

It was so unfair.

“Hello there, number four!”

The hand on his shoulder startled him so badly that he hit his head on the glass, the window actually vibrating slightly from the impact. Keith gave a small gasp as he took two steps back, eyes clenched shut as his hand went up to nurse the throbbing spot on his forehead.

He could feel his eyebrows practically weld together as he glowered at Coran, the man looking so carefree as though he had not almost given Keith a heart attack.

“Hey, Coran.”, he finally grumbled, taking a closer look at the man.

Even after having informed the Altean that the disguises were actually useless, the man still insisted on dressing up as weirdly as possible – eyepatch and everything, although he had changed his coat for some strange robe. He was inclined to agree with Pidge who had muttered under their breath that Coran was probably just looking for any kind of excuse to dress up.

He noticed the bag slung over his shoulder. It had been empty upon their arrival but now seemed barely able to hold all of the stuff Coran had said he’d need to get to work on the simulator and apparently to do some much needed repairs on their Lions.

“Got everything you needed?” He asked, looking pointedly at the bulging bag and then into Coran’s face.

The eye-patch lifted a little as the mechanic gave a smile, jiggling the cord and bag.

“Indeed, and it was a fabulously good trade at that! When it comes to Coran,” he stroked his mustache with an air of smugness Keith only ever thought Lance capable of, “those Unilu stand no chance. Anyway, what have we got here.”

And to Keith’s mounting embarrassment and horror, he actually went to peek through the window Keith had been almost plastered against for what felt like vargas.

“It’s nothing.” He crossed his arms, tucking his hands between his elbows and rips and trying hard to look casual enough.

As much as Keith wished he had someone else besides Shiro to talk about his fascination with arms and war machines, it was one of the very things he tended to keep to himself.  
It was partly because most people did not seem to see the appeal and other parts because…

Well, because most of the people he had opened up to about it had from then on looked at him with that strange gleam in their eyes. A certain kind of look that gave Keith the feeling he was a freak. Especially the people in whose care he ended up. For some reason, a child finding interest in these kinds of things had been unappealing. Had been strange.

Shiro had been the only one not to judge him and Keith had been stumped by the sheer relief that had flooded him when the older teen had furthermore allowed him to show him the folder he had compiled on a thumb drive – his own small encyclopedia about ways of manufacturing certain blades, about the special bows no one could really rebuild because no one any longer mastered the craft, shields and spears from all around the world being unearthed by archeologists.

One evening, Shiro had even joked that Keith would have been at home in one of those fantasy novels, with the knights in shining armor and swords of destiny to banish evil and darkness. His only response had been to jab his elbow into his surrogate older brother’s stomach.

It was kind of ironic how unknowingly right he had been back then.

Coran was stroking his chin with his hand, looking critically at the blade and Keith could feel himself growing warm from the sudden bout of self-consciousness.

“Shouldn’t we go and meet the others?” he offered, glad that his voice did not betray any of the unrest he felt at potentially being found out.

He wondered who he was kidding here, because it definitely wasn’t Coran.

The Altean merely gave a low hum, eyes still squinting at the weapon and Keith was starting to get curious as to what exactly he had spotted that obviously he didn’t.

Keith always had had a hard time with understanding people. Shiro had once consoled him with the explanation that Keith was too honest for his own good, so much so that he tended to believe that other people were just as straightforward as him when he actually should know better.

And Coran in particular was one of those people Keith was never able to tell how open he was with any of them. It was somewhat intimidating; to never know what was going on inside the man’s head.

“That’s quite the eye you got.”

Keith blinked, the casual compliment blindsiding him and making him lose his train of thought.

“What?”

Coran smiled that knowing smile they had come to expect every so often, pointing at the object of Keith’s interest.

“These kinds of blades were already much coveted in the old days. Only the Eiraklo could forge these kinds of weapons.”

Keith inclined his head, staring critically at Coran. “Eiraklo?” It sounded familiar.

“Remember how I and Allura explained that the Olkarie could bend metal at will?”

Keith nodded.

“The Olkarie are, or at least as were, as much of explorers as us Alteans and some of them went to colonize other planets. I wouldn’t say that calling their new home after their planet of origin spelled backwards was very creative, but I assure you there were no finer smiths in any part of their galaxy.”

Keith nodded, feeling himself relax.

“Did they imbed it with technology?”

It would make sense. The Olkarie were after all a highly sophisticated people. If anything, not trying to enhance a weapon in such a manner would be a waste. Although Keith had to admit that he could merely think of the concept as amazing, not having any clear idea in what way exactly technology could be used on a sword or dagger.

But it still sounded cool in his head.

“Some blades, although those are heirlooms and pretty rare. This one would be a regular imitar blade.”

“What was it used for?” Keith could not hold back some of the excitement that was bleeding into his voice but the opportunity was too good to pass up. Here Coran was, willing to share his knowledge and to give Keith answers to all the questions that had had him glued to the spot in front of the shop.

Coran gave a casual shrug: “Small ones like these usually served as a hidden weapon – hard to detect because of their size and so light that one would barely notice them or weight them down.”

Without meaning to, Keith’s eyes instantly fell back on the blade, gaining a new appreciation for its design.

“Do you want to buy it?”

Even with his voice being the most calm and quiet Keith had ever personally heard it, it still made him jerk as if hit by one of the gladiator bot’s electric rods.

He stared at Coran with wide eyes, suddenly feeling uncomfortable at how easily the man could see through him. And he felt sheepish because now he realized how he had inadvertently leaned back towards the window. It was plainly obvious what he wanted.

But the idea of being so utterly predictable did not sit well with him.

“No.” He cleared his throat when his voice broke into a higher pitch. “I mean, it was just interesting to look at and we don’t have the money anyway so-“

“Keith.”

He stopped. Coran was regarding him, blue-pink eyes steady and calm. Keith gave a sigh.

He had a heavy sense of déjà vu of his afternoon with Shiro, his best friend looking at him in all earnest as he asked Keith whether he wanted that shirt or not. Keith had vehemently refused back then and Shiro had resected him enough to back off. That did not mean that Keith had never thought back on the offer, or the way Shiro’s eyes had clearly told him that he knew he had not been honest. But Shiro had been too kind to call him out on it.

“Actually, I do.” He finally admitted, although he could not directly say it to Coran’s face, opting to stare at a tile just beside the man’s left shoe. Heat was slowly crawling up his neck at the awkward confession and he decided it was high time to leave.

“Let’s go, the others are probably waiting.” He was already in motion, trying to hurry back to that gigantic clock with benches where they would rendezvous later but Coran was quick to announce what Keith definitely did not want to hear.

“Only a tick, Keith.”

And the teenager helplessly watched, gaping as Coran sauntered right into that shop before he could even open his mouth in protest.

The one arm he had reached out to stop the man slowly lowered until it fell back to his side limply. From this particular angle it was hard to see what exactly was going on, only catching the flash of one of Coran’s white gloves every few seconds.

His other arm came to reach his elbow, fingers fisting into the fabric of his jacket as he waited.

He should not have said anything. Coran shouldn’t bother. They needed the money for more important things than Keith’s inexplicable fascination with sharp objects.

It was hopeless anyway. No one in their right mind would even bargain the price of something as valuable as what Coran had made this blade out to be. And yet, as Keith concentrated on pulling at a loose string on the white seam, he could not help but find it touching that the advisor would at least try, when they really did not talk all that much.

He was somewhat aware that he spent more time with their Blue Paladin, if only because said Blue Paladin was very vocal about how much stuff the both of them cleaned up.

The rustle of paper was the only warning Keith got as a brown bundle was shoved into his hands. He barely managed to get a decent grip on it.

He hunched his shoulders automatically, blinking up at Coran as the Altean smiled, clapping him on the back.

“There we have it: one imitar blade for our Paladin Keith.”

Keith felt his mouth drop open. He had not thought it would work. He had not thought Coran seriously intending to spend such a sum on such a small object.

“Coran, no, I can’t...” he stuttered, suddenly panicked “We need that money for more important stuff.”

Coran made a show of feigning hurt, slapping a palm over where Keith guessed his heart might be, bending a little back for dramatic effect.

“Your sheer lack of faith wounds me, young Paladin. I made sure to let you all know I was a master of bartering!”

And indeed, when Keith looked back at the shopkeeper now removing the cushion and shiny tag, he could see clear discontent on his features.

He stared back at Coran, then the package, and back at Coran.

“I- I don’t know what to say.”

His awe seemed to amuse the older man.

“A simple ‘thank you’ should suffice.”

Keith was not exactly sure what kind of expression he was sporting, but his smile was somewhat unsteady but hopefully not any less grateful.

“Thank you, Coran.”

He clutched the blade harder, mindful of the rather unsecure wrappings. There was a tingle in his limbs, a kind of lightness that Keith only ever felt when he was with Shiro or on the rare occasion that the whole team did a relaxing activity together he could enjoy. It felt nice.

“Let us make our way back, shall we?”

Keith nodded, falling into step with Coran. His thumb kept running over the coarse paper and there was no way he would stop doing it anytime soon.

“Keith.”

He looked up at the somewhat serious tone but was reassured when there was nothing in Coran’s posture or eyes that spoke of a sudden change of heart. Although there was something more… remorseful hidden in the line between those orange eyebrows.

“You carry many responsibilities as the Paladins of Voltron. You took on a destiny that even many grown man and women would have been reluctant to accept. The five of you risk your lives each and every day for the universe.”

He paused and Keith, as if entranced, stopped in the middle of the arcade’s hall when Coran did. The warmth from those eyes was paternal and unlike anything Keith had ever experienced.

“The least we can do for you, is to make this burden a little more bearable. And if that means haggling with a livid shopkeeper over a priceless blade, then that’s what we will do.”

Keith did not blush easily, but right now he could feel his whole face combust at this sheer kindness. They stood in silence for a while longer and it took Keith a moment to understand that Coran was actually waiting for an answer. All he could manage at this point was a nod, his throat somehow having constricted.

Coran returned the gesture and they headed towards one of the escalators going up.

“If you wish,” Coran added as he leant back against the handrail, “I can show you to the Castle’s armory once we get back. I’d be happy to have someone help me keep everything in working order.”

Keith’s cheeks stung from the smile stretching his lips.

 

~

_If Keith could have seen what Coran saw at that moment, it would have been a young lass with a child’s excited glimmer in his eyes._


End file.
